


Souvenirs

by SkartoArgento



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Souvenirs, short fic, stealing from your co-worker's desk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:45:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkartoArgento/pseuds/SkartoArgento
Summary: As the Sarif Industries dream dies, Pritchard tries to hold on for a little longer.





	

With each walk through the dying building of Sarif Industries, Jensen's empty office drew Frank's eye again and again.

Necessity forced him under the dark room far too frequently, going through the abandoned offices to see if any sensitive information had been left lying on desks or in drawers, and tiny hairs rose on his wrists every time. The familiar turned unfamiliar. Space where someone should be. Grief at absence.

The other emotion came as a primal puzzlement. Like a dog baffled by a ball their owner pretended to throw. _Where did it go? It should be here!_

The final box of his things, packed with files and scribbled folds of post-it notes that might be useful. All the useless garbage he'd scattered around the tech lab, even threw an old cup of coffee at the wall for good measure. Tai Yong's problem now. They bought out the building, they could damn well foot the bill for cleaning.

Turning off the lights in the tech lab for the final time – a simple task he hadn't given any thought to – became one of the hardest moments. Harder than when Sarif, not long out of his coma, gathered those who remained after the Incident and told them, in a cracked and wheezing voice, to clean out their desks. That the dream was now no different to the dust and ash on the streets of Detroit.

His fingers struggled with the power switch. All the complaints about the office, all the uncouth begging for Jensen's space – had he really wasted all that time over what turned out to be a perfectly serviceable room?

If he squinted, Malik emerged from the shadows, a coffee for him in one hand and an energy bar in the other, saying something like _did you sleep at your desk again last night?_ Or _Adam said if he caught you snooping around his office again he'd kill you. Just a heads-up._

If he squinted even harder, Jensen leaned against the wall, arms folded, glowering away at nothing.

The button clicked under his finger. Darkness, and the memories faded.

Up one floor for that last look around. Jensen's desk, still empty. Of course it would be – what had he expected? _Presumed_ dead. When you factored in ice-cold water and an entire complex collapsing on top of a human being, even an augmented one,  presumption barely entered the equation. Adam had died there. The only hope he entertained was that it had been quick.

No motion lights blinked on when he crossed the threshold, but the lobby threw in more than enough to see by. He set the box down at the end of the desk (nudging a few files around to stop them slipping over the edge) and sat in Jensen's chair. Unbelievable – so much more comfortable than the one in his office. And this one actually leaned back! Why had he been complaining about the office when he could have just pushed for the chair? Didn't Sarif Industries value its cyber security staff as much as its physical security staff? Jensen would definitely be hearing about this later –

He closed his eyes. _I thought I saw you throw the ball that time, I really did._

Hands curled into fists on the desk's shiny black surface. Anger came in a helpless gush, an overflowing tap that had dripped for months. _You bastard, how could you?_

Down in the lobby, Sarif stood in front of an immaculate woman with Tai Yong augmented arms (even from here he recognised the shape) and a clipboard in her hands. She smiled, even as Sarif gesticulated like a mad man and jabbed at her clipboard. Behind them, one of the front windows had been blackened and scorched since the morning. Another firebomb, tossed over the heads of what meagre security remained. Never mind that they weren't responsible for the Incident – someone, apparently, had to pay. At least they hadn't ended up burned and gutted like the LIMB clinics. Not yet.

“We can get through this somehow,” he'd said to Sarif after the 'we're all out of a job' talk finished and he'd been invited up to the CEO office. “There must be a way to keep the company running as Sarif Industries –”

“Frank.” The effects of the coma still stole colour from Sarif's cheeks, killed whatever enthusiastic edge might have remained after Panchaea. “Don't, please. The board made their decision. It's over.” 

“You're just going to give up? You _made_ this company! You can't let Tai Yong have a monopoly on augmentation!” Self-preservation struggled like a dying animal caught in a trap. Where would he go? What would he do?

Sarif's augmented hand rubbed over stubble. No, that was the face of a broken man. Any idiot could see that. “Frank. Leave.”

Pride wanted him to stay, but obedience drove him back to the elevator. A short ride back down, but when he had rubbed his eyes to push away the lingering fatigue, his fingers came away wet.

The woman from Tai Yong tilted her head at Sarif, still smiling and nodding away. He had a few minutes at least, to do... what? Why had he come in here anyway?

He let his hands slide over the desk. No computers, but by some kind of silent collective agreement, they'd left most of Jensen's personal effects alone. A metal photo frame to the left contained a picture of a black and white dog. Mouldable adhesive formed the shape of an anatomically incorrect penguin, wings grooved by fingernails and two pen-tip holes for eyes. Had Jensen made it? Pushed it across the desk and pretended it waddled?

He slipped it into his pocket, carefully, and opened the top drawer of the desk. 

Doctor Reed in a photo frame this time, Jensen at her side and smiling, actually smiling. Good to know that at some point the disagreeable annoyance had been happy. He left the photo there, continued his rummaging underneath and in the other drawers. Nothing much of any note, security-wise or not. Just a dusty marble in the middle drawer that he took to keep the penguin company.

“Frank?”

Sarif stood at the doorway to the office, face half in shadow from the lobby's lights. A frown pulled eyebrows together, dipped the edges of Sarif's lips. “Planning a sit-in? If not, it's time to go. If so, then... I suppose making things a little harder for Tai Yong is admirable, but might not be the best thing to do right now.”

“I'm enjoying the fact that I finally have this office. If only for a few minutes.”

“Time's up. Told them they were scheduled to come in tomorrow morning, but the bastards want to go through and shut down _now_.” Sarif stopped, ran a hand along the door frame, but didn't seem to want to set foot in the office itself. “We're the last in here, y'know.”

“I thought we would be. The others couldn't seem to get out of the front door fast enough.”

“You can't blame them, Frank. Getting threatened on their way to and from work? People spitting at them in the streets, blaming them for the Aug Incident? Don't tell me you haven't had any of that. It's a wonder we got anyone back at all.” 

In his pocket, the penguin and the marble rolled as he stood up. “Apparently no one who mattered.”

Sarif's hands came up in a 'calm down' motion. “Maybe this is for the best, Frank. We keep going and it's only a matter of time before someone else gets hurt. I don't want to come in one day and see your tech lab empty like this. Let's go. That your last box? I'll walk you out.”

No choice now. He gathered up the box, followed Sarif out of the door and into the hall. All the other offices formed a line of dark caverns. Dead rooms. He held the box tighter to his chest. “There's... really nothing else we can do?”

Sarif's smile was almost lost to shadows. “Can't hack our way out of this one, Frank. Oh, that reminds me.” They stopped at the top of the stairs. Sarif's eyes went to the Tai Yong woman below as she peered through the windows of the first floor offices. “Did you happen to, uh, change the locks before you left?”

“Of course. If anyone tries to poke around they're going to have a difficult time.”

“What a shame for Tai Yong.”

Down the steps for the last time. Crossing the lobby for the last time. Sarif turned for one final look, but he couldn't, not any more. Adam's empty office burned at his back. A split second of hesitation before they walked out of the front door, and he went first. It only seemed fair. Sarif came out close behind him, and the building was Sarif Industries was no longer. 

Behind the security team and the few cops who had bothered to show up, twenty or so citizens of Detroit greeted their appearance with shouts and whoops. Even so late at night they attracted a small crowd. Sarif's car pulled up to the front, but a finger stopped the driver.  _One moment._ “Well. That's it then.”

They looked up together, and the towers loomed like black mountains above them. Sarif breathed out slowly, as though trying to control a noise he really didn't want to make. “You know... they'll say Sarif Industries died when the board sold out to TYM. But I think it really died with Adam.”

He grit his teeth together. One hand went under the box. The other went into his pocket.  _Stop, don't say anything else, I can't do this, I can't –_

Sarif clapped him on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself.”

All he could do was nod. Sarif walked, head still high even through the shouts of _'fucking hanzer!'_ and _'you killed this city, you fucking aug!'_ A rock bounced off the roof of the car. The cops clustered, uneasy in their lack of numbers

He took the opportunity the car provided, and turned up the collar of his jacket. With a big target like Sarif, no one would notice him. Or so he hoped.

Penguin and marble stuck against his fingers. Such small things to remind him what he'd lost.

He should write an old-style postcard. Address it to the middle of the Arctic ocean. _Wish you were here._

 


End file.
